


Stars, hide your fires

by incandescentfae



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Destiel Modern AU Challenge (Supernatural), Fluff and Angst, I have absolutely no idea where this is going, Modern Era, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jehan, Other, The au that nobody asked for, Trans Character, Trans Montparnasse, it's just fluff and shakespeare man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentfae/pseuds/incandescentfae
Summary: Jehan loves this bookstore. They do. They love their coworkers (...most of them) and their boss. They love the smell of old books that lingers even after they’ve left the store, and that they can curl up on one of the store’s soft chairs with a book of poetry and a cup of tea on their breaks. They love the way sunlight illuminates the dust in the air on golden warm days, and they love how cosy it feels with the lamps on and rain drumming against the windows. It’s lovely. It’s calm. It’s peaceful.They aren’t expecting the ring of a bell to completely change everything.
Relationships: Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Stars, hide your fires

**Author's Note:**

> Me, for the 500th time: "I am going to finish this fic."
> 
> I've just been craving Jehanparnasse tbfh

Jehan loves this bookstore. They do. They love their coworkers (...most of them) and their boss. They love the smell of old books that lingers even after they’ve left the store, and that they can curl up on one of the store’s soft chairs with a book of poetry and a cup of tea on their breaks. They love the way sunlight illuminates the dust in the air on golden warm days, and they love how cosy it feels with the lamps on and rain drumming against the windows. It’s lovely. It’s calm. It’s peaceful.

They aren’t expecting the ring of a bell to completely change everything.

* * *

A used bookstore doesn’t typically get much traffic at 5:30 on a thursday night, so when the bell above the door rings, Jehan looks up from their battered copy of _Fleurs de mal_ , startled. It’s a little less than half an hour until closing, and they hadn’t expected any more customers for the day.

“Hello!” They call as cheerfully as they can, all while hoping the late customer doesn’t stay too long or make any sort of mess they’ll have to clean up. They’re the only one left in the shop, the two coworkers on shift with them having left half an hour before. Closing is Jehan’s least favorite shift to work. It gets dreadfully lonely, in a quiet empty store by yourself. And as friendly as the spirits here seem to be, they’ve been banned from bringing their ouija board in to attempt communication (following an incident that ended with candlewax spilled all over the carpet and a lightbulb that their coworkers maintain only exploded coincidentally) 

The customer has dark hair and a leather jacket-the lighting is too dim for Jehan to see their face properly, but there’s an air of familiarity about them, like somebody Jehan knows.

“Hey, there.” The person says, and Jehan nearly drops their mug of tea. They _know_ that voice, that face-

“Montparnasse?” He smiles, a crooked, red-lipped smirk they know all too well.

“Good to know you remember me. Hello, Prouvaire.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jehan?” Their tone is light, but their head is reeling. Of _course_ they remembered him. They’d had the _biggest_ crush on him in high school...and he’s only gotten prettier over time. His skin is darker now, and glowing in the lamplight. His hair is shorter, and rather than being slicked back it’s falling to the side of his face. His shirt is _sheer_. Sheer! How on earth are they meant to survive this? He’s gorgeous. T has been good to him, in the five or so years it’s been. They’d been a try-hard edgy teen when they’d met him, hair dyed black and Poe quotes scribbled on their arms. He wore too much eyeliner and passed notes back and forth with them in second period math. They’d fallen hard for him, but nothing had ever come of it.

“I wasn’t sure we were still on a first name basis.” He leans against the counter casually, and their heart skips as he eyes them up and down. They’ve changed too, since high school. Softer and healthier, and their hair is red rather than black now. Not to mention they ditched the eyeliner and well worn band shirts, in favor of soft floral clothing and bright colors.

“Of course we are. And frankly I’m insulted you would think we weren’t!.”

“My mistake.” He rolls his eyes. “You kept your horrible sense of style, I see. Just... _brighter._ ” They flush. 

“Insulting my clothes? Old habits die hard.”

“It’s not a habit, it’s an intervention.”

Jehan gives up and laughs, shaking their head.

“God, you’re impossible.”

“I try,” He says, and there’s that goddamn smirk again. “You look good, Jehan. Really.”

They think in the back of their mind that this is the first time in five years he’s left them speechless like this. 

“I know.” They say. “Why are you here?”

“Well, why does anyone come to a bookstore? I should think it’s obvious.” Jehan raises an eyebrow.

“You may have changed, but you can’t have changed that much.” His jaw drops in apparent shock and indignation.

“I read!” Jehan only smiles. “Unbelievable.” He mutters. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try.” They say cheerfully. “Can I help you find anything?”

Ten minutes later with a very old shakespeare under his arm-for a friend, as far as they can tell-he gives them one last smirk.

“Pleasure seeing you.” He says. 

“Lovely as always.” Jehan replies. 

They’re definitely not expecting him to take their hand and press a kiss to it, gently.

“I’ll see you soon.” He says, and he’s left without a trace before Jehans breath has returned to their lungs.

* * *

  
  


“Montparnasse. Was in your store.”

“Yes!”

“Montparnasse. The Montparnasse that you never shut up about in high school. The guy who dealt me all my weed. _That_ Montparnasse?”

“Yes, R, that Montparnasse.” Jehan says impatiently. 

“Unbelievable.” Grantaire shakes his head. “He completely dropped off the map after he dropped out.” 

“I know.” They sigh, flopping down onto the couch next to him. “Fuck, R, he’s gotten so _pretty._ ”

“I mean, you already thought he was gorgeous. I distinctly remember teenage Jehan waxing poetic about the ‘crimson of his lips’-”

“Oh, shut up.” Jehan kicks at his leg, but rests their head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around their waist. “He really is so pretty…”

“Typical Jehan. A pretty boy flirts with you and instead of being excited you get all melancholy.” He teases. They stick their tongue out.  
“It’s not like it meant anything! You know his reputation.”

“True.” Grantaire muses. “If he slept with me he’d sleep with anyone.”

“Wait, _what?_ You slept with _Montparnasse?_ How did I not know this?” 

“Because if I’d told you at the time you would have gotten all mopey and depressed.” He squeezes them. “And trust me, you didn’t need any more reasons to be mopey and depressed.” Jehan leans into him, curling into his side.

“Do you think I’ll see him again?” They ask.  
“I dunno, you’ve gotten very pretty. I doubt he could stay away.” They can’t help the giggle that escapes from their mouth.

* * *

  
  


It’s slightly more expected when, three days later, Montparnasse comes into their store. Today he’s wearing a pristine white shirt with the top three buttons undone, and no lipstick. He’s breathtaking.

“Back so soon?” They ask.

“Yes, I had a question.” He says. “Hamlet and Horatio. Gay, right?” Jehan grins delightedly.

“ _Absolutely._ No doubt about it. How far in have you gotten?”

“A chapter or so? It’s….slow going.”

“That it is.” They agree with a laugh. “It gets easier once you’re used to it.”

“It had better.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll never understand why people like Shakespeare.”

“Because it’s fascinating! His plays are full of love and tragedy and death and beauty! And also dick jokes, so many dick jokes.” Montparnasse snorts.

“I haven’t seen any dick jokes yet.”

“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention.” They reach into a drawer of the counter, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, and hastily scrawl their number. “Here. If you have any more questions.” He takes the piece of paper, a strange look on his face.

“Only you would write with pink, _glittery_ ink.”

“Hey, Courfeyrac gave me that pen! An insult to that pen is an insult to him!”

“I’m okay with that.” He says dryly, and Jehan huffs in exasperation. 

“Did you just come by to insult Shakespeare and my best friend, or did you need something?”

“Well now that I’m here, I feel the need to tell you that there _is_ such a thing as too many flower patterns.” They look down, at their flower patterned coat, their light yellow shirt with the cactuses, and their skirt with roses, and grin.

“Agree to disagree.”

* * *

  
  


“I would like to propose a new matter for discussion today.” Grantaire says, with a grin in Jehan’s direction. 

“Yes, Grantaire?” Asks Enjolras, sounding equally hopeful and hesitant. 

“Our dear poet has a new paramour they are neglecting to mention.” The room erupts into cheers and congratulations, and Jehan shoots R a glare.

“No, stop, he’s not a _paramour._ ”

“How would you define the relationship, then?” Enjolras asks, looking almost disappointed at being cut off mid congratulations.

“He’s someone I used to know from high school. He came into my bookstore the other day, and that’s it.”

“Really? That’s why you’ve been texting him nonstop?” Grantaire teases. Jehan buries their face in their hands, with a muffled groan.

“It’s not nonstop, oh my god R.” At the exact worst moment, their phone buzzes, and Grantaire looks very self-satisfied as he blows them a kiss. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t dish all these details to me, Jehan!” Courf is clearly going for a hurt tone but his grin contradicts it.

“That’s enough.” Enjolras says, and Jehan could kiss him for gratitude. “I don’t think Jehan wants to talk about this. Let’s move on.”

**Jehan: I can’t believe you sometimes**

**Grantaire: I can’t believe you’re texting while our fearless leader is giving a speech**

**Jehan: he’s recommending a vegan cupcake recipe to courf for a party**

**Grantaire: And you should be taking notes**

**Jehan: whatever.**

**Jehan: seriously nothing is going on between me and Montparnasse**

It’s not a big deal that they’re texting him. It really isn’t. So their heart flutters a little every time his name pops up on their screen. So he keeps them laughing well into the night with snide comments about shakespeare or his housemates or whatever he can think of. So what? That’s just what friendship is. They can be friends with him.

As if on cue, their phone buzzes, his name displayed on their screen.

It’s a _selfie._   
His hair is unstyled, his eyes makeup free (but still so dark and gorgeous) and he’s rolling his eyes at something unseen. Another text pops up.

**Montparnasse: If Hamlet launches into another long ass monologue one more time I’m setting fire to this book**

**Jehan: I would suggest setting fire to Fahrenheit 451 instead**

**Jehan: much more ironic**

**Jehan: and it’s called a soliloquy and hamlet has a LOT of them**

**Montparnasse: Fantastic.**

Another picture-this time, he has his lighter in hand and is looking directly at the camera. They laugh without thinking. 

When they look up everyone at the table is staring at them, and Grantaire’s smirk is bigger than ever.

  
  
  



End file.
